


Alone

by JJ1564



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Baby Sam Winchester, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grieving Dean, Grieving John, Sad Dean, Sad John, Season/Series 01, Traumatized Dean, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/pseuds/JJ1564
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the SPN Summergen exchange (http://spn-summergen.livejournal.com/) and based on this prompt – </p><p>"What happened after Mary died. I want to see how the Winchester's made it through that first night after to firemen and John was left alone with two small children as he tries to come to grips with what happened."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to my beta somersault j for your help and for the Summergen mods for running the exchange.

After the firefighters arrived, John sat for a long time just holding onto his boys, with little Sammy in his arms and Dean plastered to his side. He knew he was in shock; he knew he should move, do something, and take the boys somewhere. But all he could hear were Mary’s screams, all he could see was her burning on the ceiling and all he could smell was…

John wiped his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind enough to get through the next few minutes. One of the firefighters came over and asked him if they had somewhere to stay, perhaps relatives or friends that could take them in. John shook his head; he knew they could go to Mike Guenther’s, as although they were business partners rather than friends, he and his wife would welcome them with open arms.

However, John didn’t want any fuss, he didn’t want to answer loads of questions and he didn’t want to be asked ‘are you okay’, because he was never going to be okay, never again.

The firefighter said that was no problem, he would arrange for John and the boys to stay at a local motel. John didn’t recall actually getting from the smoldering remains of their home to the tatty motel room, but he was aware of a woman arriving with a box of supplies – she told John her name and where she was from, the local Red Cross or something, but he could never really remember what she’d said, it was all a blur. She had brought formula and diapers for the baby, a flask of hot coffee for John and cookies for Dean, as well as toiletries and some spare clothes.

She suggested that John take a shower while she was there and could watch the boys, but Dean had screamed and cried and clung onto John’s trouser leg when John tried to move away. John was actually relieved that Dean had done so, as he had been far too quiet since it all happened.

John handed Sammy to the woman and picked Dean up, holding him tightly and telling him it was okay, he wasn’t gonna leave him, nothing bad was gonna happen. The poor woman was bravely holding back her own tears, but she quickly made up a bottle for Sammy, feeding him while John sat on the edge of the bed, rocking and soothing his oldest son.

Soon both of the boys were fast asleep, and John placed Dean gently on the bed. He took Sammy from the woman’s arms and thanked her sincerely for all her help. She had even changed Sammy’s diaper and put him in clean pajamas.

John collapsed on the bed next to his boys and stared at the ceiling. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, but he needed to feel the warmth of his boys’ small bodies next to him; he needed to know they were safe. Exhaustion finally won and John slept, but woke up sweating from a nightmare of Mary screaming and burning over and over. Dawn was peeking through the curtains as John reached out for his boys - Sammy was sleeping next to him but Dean wasn’t there. John reached his hand out further, panicking as he tried to locate his boy, and his hand touched a wet patch on the sheet. John sighed as he realized what had happened.

Dean was crouched on the floor, his head on his knees, crying bitterly. John rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Dean up into his arms.  
“Did you have an accident, buddy?” John asked gently. Dean nodded and sobbed louder.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m not mad at you.” John stroked his back and ignored the dampness seeping from Dean’s wet trousers into his own. “You couldn’t help it. I forgot to remind you to go pee before you fell asleep.”

Dean sobs subsided a little and he whispered, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You got nothing to be sorry for, son,” John kissed the top of Dean’s hair, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

“S-Sammy?” Dean looked across at the sleeping baby. John knew Dean didn’t want to leave him alone, not even to go a few feet to the bathroom, because John felt exactly the same, so he scooped Sammy up into one arm and took Dean’s small hand in his own. He knew he was being irrational, but the thought of being separated from either of his boys right now, even for a few minutes, terrified him. Sam was still fast asleep and making those adorable snuffling noises that babies make and that Mary loves…loved so much. John wiped his eyes angrily and turned on the shower.

“Can you take your clothes off, Dean?” John asked as Dean stood quietly gazing at Sam. He nodded and peeled off his wet trousers, underwear and t-shirt. He shivered as the cool air of the shower room hit his damp skin. “In you get, buddy, I’ll be right here.”

Dean’s bottom lip wobbled but he nodded again and stepped into the shower. John helped him wash one-handed, holding Sam in his other arm. By the time he was helping Dean to dry off, Sam was stirring, blinking his eyes open and giving a half-hearted cry. John rocked him for a short while until he gave a big yawn and drifted back to sleep.

John settled Dean into the second bed in the room, placing Sam next to him; Dean automatically wrapped his small arm around his baby brother. John stripped the wet sheets off of the other bed, with Dean watching him the whole time. John climbed into the bed next to his boys, and scooped them both onto his lap with a sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. Dean squirmed and sighed, unable to settle.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” John asked gently, almost afraid to ask, even more afraid to hear the answer.

“Is Mommy in heaven?” Dean whispered, looking up at John.

“Yes, sweetheart, the fire took her away but she’s safe now,” John answered, wishing he could believe it, hoping that his son would believe it.

“Will we see her again?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

“No, I’m afraid we won’t, but I believe she’ll be watching over us,” John replied.

“Is she…is she all alone up there?” Dean’s bottom lip trembled.

“No, no, don’t worry;” John reassured him, “she’ll be with her mommy and her daddy.”

Dean nodded as tears started to run down his cheeks, then he added, “That’s good; it would be very scary being all alone.”

Dean cried himself to sleep as John hugged him and whispered words of comfort to him, wishing he could find some comfort too.

He sat for a long time after Dean had gone to sleep, just looking at him and Sammy, realizing he had never fully appreciated before just how beautiful they were and how precious. Then panic set in - what the fuck was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t give up work to look after them, but he wouldn’t trust anyone else to do so, not now. Not after what he had seen. Something evil had killed his wife and he had to protect his boys from it, but he had no idea how to do that.

He settled Dean and Sam onto the mattress and covered them gently with the bed-covers. Dean’s little arm immediately reached out for Sam, and John moved him closer. Dean frowned in his sleep until he felt Sam next to him again, then his sweet little face relaxed. John took the opportunity to grab a quick shower, keeping the door wide open so Dean would know where he was if he woke up. John washed the smell of the smoke from his hair and his skin, sobbing the whole time as he felt like he was scrubbing away his last physical connection to Mary.

John got dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his sons. They were both sleeping peacefully, Dean’s arm still tucked around Sam’s body. John sighed, turning away from them to gaze down at his wedding ring. He twisted it as he thought of Mary. They hadn’t had a perfect marriage and they had their disagreements, just like any other couple. John had walked out after an argument, just a few months ago; he knew he was a stubborn asshole at times, proud too, and although he knew he was in the wrong, his stupid pride wouldn’t let him admit it.

He could hardly remember what the fight had been about. The sleepless nights without Mary by his side made him go home and beg her to forgive him; to forgive her thoughtless, proud, stubborn husband. Mary had given in and smiled at him, and soon she was in his arms and he was kissing her, promising never to leave her and the boys again.

He had hated spending a few nights away from her, and now he would spend the rest of his life without her. He wished with all his heart that this wasn’t his reality, that it was just a really intense nightmare and that he’d see his Mary smiling at him when he woke up.

John lost track of time as he sat there, staring at his ring, and thinking about all he had lost. A small hand touched his knee and brought him out of his reverie. Dean was standing there looking at him solemnly and pointed to Sammy, who was starting to cry, either needing changing or feeding, perhaps both. He hadn’t even realized Dean was awake, or heard him get up from the bed.

John reached out and tousled Dean’s fair hair. Dean smiled sadly, and John knew that such sadness shouldn’t be on such a young face. Dean had always been a happy kid; inquisitive, cheeky, charming and bright as a button. He loved his toy cars, his football, his mommy singing to him, his daddy playing ball with him, but most of all he loved his baby brother. Yet Dean had another side, a quieter, more thoughtful side. John recalled Mary telling him that when he had left home and she had been upset after they had quarreled on the phone, Dean had told her, “It’s okay, Mom. Dad still loves you. I love you, too. I’ll never leave you.”

John pulled Dean into a brief hug and kissed the top of his head. The enormity of his loss, and Dean’s loss too, threatened to overwhelm him, to make him lie down and never get up. It was only his boys that were keeping him going.

“Can you fetch me a clean diaper for Sammy and that little pot of ointment?” John asked him, and Dean had quickly found them while John stripped Sammy out of his dirty clothes and wet diaper.

Once Sam was clean and dressed, John handed him to Dean who sat in the only armchair in the motel room, holding Sam in his arms and singing softly, while John warmed up Sam’s milk. Dean took the bottle from John like it was a normal thing for him to do, and fed the baby while John stripped the bed.

John didn’t want to face the world, not yet, but he knew he couldn’t hide away in the motel room forever. He had to get Dean some breakfast; then he had to start making arrangements and see Guenther. He took the boys with him to the Sheriff’s office, where Dean stood as close to him as possible and Sam slept in his arms. The secretary cooed over the baby and the sweet little boy, but John refused her offer to ‘take them off his hands for a moment’, and held them both tighter while he waited for the Sheriff. John knew the Sheriff, Ray Quinn, as he had fixed up an old Mustang the Sheriff loved. Ray told him how sorry he was to hear about Mary, and then he looked uncomfortable as he told John that her remains were with the Coroner. John flinched at the word ‘remains’; it just seemed wrong that this was all that was left of his beautiful wife. Ray informed him that once the Coroner had made his report, John could start making the funeral arrangements.

John confided in Ray that he had seen Mary pinned to the ceiling in Sam’s room, right before the fire started, and that she was bleeding, but he had no idea how she had got up there or who could have harmed her. Ray looked sympathetic, but he also looked like he though John might be just a little bit crazy; John knew he wasn’t going insane, he knew what he had seen.

John left the sheriff’s office and stopped by the garage, knowing that Mike would be worried about them. It was a small town and news travelled fast, especially the bad kind. Mike looked both relieved and sorrowful when he saw them climbing out of the car.

“John, oh God, John, I’m so sorry,” Mike exclaimed as he rushed over to them. “Where have you been? We were so worried; you should’ve come to us.”

“Thanks, but we’re good, we’re staying at a motel,” John replied, jiggling a restless Sam on his hip, his free hand holding Dean’s.

“You can’t stay in a motel!” Mike retorted. “Nora won’t hear of it, she’ll be pleased to have you stay, until…until things get sorted out.”

“I said we’re good,” John snapped, adding, “I’m sorry Mike, I’m just…”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Mike replied, “come on through to the office. I think we still have some of those candies you like, Dean.”

Once in the small office, John sat down wearily and Dean scrambled up onto his lap, alongside Sammy.

“Here you go, Dean,” Mike said, holding out the jar to Dean. Dean took just one and held it in his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered politely, and John kissed his head.

“I know it’s a stupid question, but how are you all doing?” Mike asked.

“Just getting by minute by minute,” John replied, bouncing Sammy up and down on his knee to keep him from getting fractious.

“I can’t believe it, John, when I heard the news, I just…” Mike shook his head. “Do they know what caused it?”

“No official verdict yet but it wasn’t an accident,” John stated, unsure how much to tell Mike.

“What do you mean?” Mike looked suitably shocked. “Surely it wasn’t started deliberately?”

Dean’s small body started to tremble and John stroked his hair. “Hey, it’s okay buddy, don’t be scared.” Dean turned around and buried his face in John’s shoulder, sobbing.

“Let’s go back to my place, John,” Mike offered kindly, “we can talk and Nora can look out for the boys.”

“No, I got things to do and my boys stay with me,” John responded, “but thanks for the offer.” John hugged Dean and told him it was okay, it was alright, but he didn’t believe his own words. “I need to get the boys some food, I’d better go.”

“If there’s anything I can do, anything you need, just let me know,” Mike offered.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” John replied.

Mike walked out to the car with them and once John had settled the boys in the back seat, Mike whispered to him, “What did you mean about it not being an accident?”

“All I know is that it was no accident. Mary was screaming,” John hesitated, “I ran up to Sam’s room and she was on the ceiling, kinda pinned there…then, then the flames just exploded and I grabbed Sammy and told Dean to take him outside,” John rubbed his eyes, “and I tried, but I couldn’t get to her… “

“So, you’re saying someone killed Mary?” Mike asked incredulously, “you’re sure it wasn’t an electrical fault or something?”

“Mike, she was pinned to the fucking ceiling,” John hissed angrily, not wanting to raise his voice and worry Dean further. “A fucking electrical fault wouldn’t have done that.”

Mike sighed, “You were under a lot of stress; perhaps you thought you saw….”

“You think I’m making it up?” John snarled. “Someone or something killed my wife, destroyed our home and left my kids motherless. It wasn’t a fucking accident.”

“John, perhaps we should look after the boys while you work all this out,” Mike said gently, like he was dealing with a child or a crazy person. Yeah, Mike thought he was ten kinds of crazy.

“No, they stay with me,” John snapped, more harshly than he intended to. “I’ll take a few days then get some day care sorted out, so I can get back to work.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Mike replied, looking anxious, “there’s no need to rush back.”

The next morning, John found Missouri Mosley’s advert in the local newspaper – “Have you lost a loved one? Do you need answers?” He had never thought much of psychics, except that they were all frauds preying on people’s grief, yet there was something about her advert that spoke to him, and made him think she could be the real deal, and he made an appointment for that afternoon.

“Come on in,” the woman greeted them warmly, holding out her hand to shake John’s. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“How d’you know?” John asked, thinking she had used her powers to read his thoughts.

“You’re all over the local news, Mr Winchester.” She smiled at him then looked at the boys. “And this must be Dean and little Sam.”

“Yeah, these are my kids,” he replied, feeling a little foolish, “and, um, please call me John.”

“Pleased to meet you, John, you can call me Missouri.” She looked down at Dean, “would you like to watch some cartoons while I talk to your daddy, Dean? You can have some milk and cookies too.”

Dean gave her a shy smile, nodded and whispered, “yes please, ma’am.”

“Oh, what a polite young man!” Missouri beamed at him. “Come on through all of you; John you can lay Sam on the sofa next to Dean,” she instructed, “I’ll just go get Dean his cookies and milk.”

The living area opened into a dining area, so John could see Dean from where he sat at the table talking to Missouri and Dean could see him too, although he was already engrossed in a Tom and Jerry video Missouri had put on for him.

“Tell me exactly what happened, John,” Missouri asked as they sat at the dining table, huge mugs of coffee in front of each of them and a plate of cookies on the table too.

John told her the whole story, that he had been woken from his sleep by Mary’s screams and ran up to Sam’s nursery and had seen the horrific sight of Mary pinned to the ceiling, already bleeding and then consumed by the fire. He told her that he had snatched Sam up and thrust him into Dean’s little arms, telling him to take his brother outside as fast as he could, and then gone back to try to save Mary, but by then the whole room was ablaze. And he told her he knew that it wasn’t an accident that had taken his wife.

Missouri listened intently, only speaking to add a gentle ‘go on’ or ‘oh, honey,’ and when he finished, she looked at him with understanding and compassion. John wanted to cry, because he knew that she believed him. It was a relief to know he wasn’t crazy, but it was also fucking terrifying, because it meant it was all real. Something evil had killed his Mary.

“Do you…do you know what it was?” John asked, managing to keep his tears in check.

“It could be one of two things,“ Missouri sighed, “I’m thinking a poltergeist or a vengeful spirit, but I need to visit your home to see if I can connect with it.”

“Would that be dangerous?” John asked, not wanting to put this kind woman in harm’s way.

“No, it’s probably gone now,” Missouri reassured him, “but it will have left some trace behind, some kind of energy.”

John contacted the Fire Department and asked if he could visit the home to collect any belongings that were salvageable. He was told that would be fine as long as he didn’t go upstairs as the staircase had been damaged and could be dangerous.

John drove towards his home feeling sick with grief and anger. When he pulled up outside the ruined house, his hands were clenched white around the steering wheel. Missouri put her hand on his knee and patted it, telling him he could do this, and once it was done he would never have to come back, unless he wanted to.

John was comforted by her calm and gentle presence. He reluctantly left the boys in the back of the car; they were both sleeping but he hated to be parted from them even for a few minutes. Missouri assured him they would be perfectly safe, so he walked with her up the path to his old home. John knew as soon as he saw the burned shell that he would never come back here. It would take months to put the damage right, and even then he couldn’t bear to think of living in the place where Mary had died so horribly.

Missouri stopped at the threshold and gasped for breath. John grabbed her as she looked close to collapsing and she leaned against him for support.

“What’s wrong?” John asked in concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

“No…no,” she gasped and forced herself to walk further into the charred remains of the hallway. She only took a few more steps before she shook her head and clutched John’s arm. “It’s evil…pure evil.”

John felt a chill run down his spine at her words. Her usually calm face was twisted in fear, and she took several deep breaths before continuing forward, still leaning against John. They got to the bottom of the stairs and she stopped, looking up them with wide, frightened eyes.

“John, this wasn’t a poltergeist or a vengeful spirit,” she explained, “it’s more powerful than either of those things. I’ve never felt such malevolence.” She shuddered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what killed your wife; all I can tell you is that it was evil.”

Later that night John sat with Missouri at her dining table once more. The boys were asleep on her comfortable sofa; she had made them all a meal of roast chicken, fluffy mashed potato and vegetables, pureeing it all up for Sam who ate the first plateful and bawled for more, making them all smile just a little.

“So it’s all real - ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, all that supernatural crap.” John sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“I’m afraid so, John,” Missouri replied, her face grave. “I’ve been aware of it most of my life, but I know how hard it is to accept that the supernatural is out there. And that it can be dangerous.”

“But why, why would that thing come after Mary?” John pleaded, knowing he was asking the impossible.

“I don’t know, John. I wish I could give you some answers,” she responded wearily, “and I don’t know if I should mention this, but how do you know Mary was the target? Perhaps it came for Sam, and Mary disturbed it.”

“Why…why would anything want Sammy?” John asked, shocked.

“I don’t know, it’s just a possibility,” Missouri mused, “but I don’t understand why it didn’t just take the baby, if that’s what it wanted.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me relieved or more anxious,” John replied. “But I need to get away from here. I need to find that thing and find a way to end it. It’s never gonna have Sammy, never.”

“I understand, John, and if you need anything, a friend to talk to, some advice, some contacts, you just let me know.” Missouri gave him a warm smile.

“Thanks, but we should be going now,” John said, glancing over at his sleeping children.

“Nonsense, you’re staying here tonight,” Missouri declared. “It would make me feel better; this place is warded against most creatures and you’ll be safe here.”

“Warded?” John asked and Missouri filled him in regarding salt lines and protective sigils.

The next morning she made them waffles with bacon and John ate it automatically, without really tasting anything.

“John, just one more thing,” she whispered as they watched the kids playing, “Dean will find his voice again, I promise. Just don’t push him, he’s been through enough.”

John frowned in confusion, and then realized that Dean had hardly spoken since the fire. He would say one or two words in reply to a question, but they were whispered, and although he sang to Sammy it was so soft it was barely audible.

“Crap, I hadn’t really noticed,” John confessed, “he’s been real quiet, but we all have. I mean, Sammy’s such a good baby, he hardly ever cries except when he’s hungry or needs changing, and I’ve been kinda lost in my thoughts.”

“He’ll be okay, he’s a special little boy, they both are,” Missouri reassured him.

John stayed with Missouri until the day after Mary’s funeral. There were only a handful of people there, Mike and Rose Guenther, Missouri, a few of their neighbors and a couple of friends of Mary’s and their husbands. It saddened John to know he would never see these folk again, these people who had known his Mary, but his mind was made up - if the evil son-of-a-bitch intended to come back to Lawrence, it would find them gone.

John was going to find out all that he could about fighting evil, and then he aimed to hunt Mary’s killer down. Missouri had given him the name of a Pastor over in Blue Earth, Jim Murphy, who would be able to help him and that was where he had decided to go.

As he drove the Impala away from Lawrence, John looked into his rear-view. He saw the town fading into the distance and Dean playing ‘peek-a-boo’ with Sammy, making the baby giggle. Dean laughed at Sam, but it was muted laughter, quieter than it should be. He longed to hear Dean laugh with pure joy once more.

John faced the road ahead with determination. He had two goals now; to keep his boys safe and to find Mary’s killer.


End file.
